The Prince's Daughter
by worrywart
Summary: My entry for the 2019 LiveJournal SSHG Holiday Gift Exchange for Kerravonsen. Hermione always knew she was adopted, but when clearing out Grimmauld Place with Harry, she discovers a diary which turns her world upside down.
1. Chapter 1

**This is the story I submitted as part of the LiveJournal Severus Snape/Hermione Granger Holiday Gift Exchange. I was given prompts by Kerravonsen, and the one I chose was something I wouldn't have _ever_ written normally. Her other prompts were more what I would write, but that's just it...it's what I would have written. So I decided to challenge myself and write this particular prompt you're about to read.**

**I must thank Izhilzha, who was Kerravonsen's 'go to if you have questions' for help in figuring out how to avoid K's squicks. I also thank Adelaide Archer and VelveteenBunny for the Beta and BritPick. **

**The prompt will be at the end of the story. **

**LiveJournal Gift fests/exchanges are amazing to participate in and read the results of. Some of the stories and artwork I have seen are simply stunning. Please visit this link (take the spaces out and change the words that are symbols to symbols) to find something wonderful: ljcomm equals sshg underscore giftfest**

** I hope you enjoy this rather unique story from me. There are no true triggers unless you've had a bad experience in searching for birth parents.**

* * *

**Part One**

The bell above the shop jangled merrily as Hermione opened the door to Ollivander's. "Hello?" she called out.

A tiny wizard, white hair tufting up every which way, shuffled through a curtained doorway. He was bent with age and—as Hermione knew—the result of having been tortured during the war.

"Oh, Miss Granger…I expected to be seeing you at some point." He smiled widely in greeting.

Hermione laughed. "I suspect you expect to see everyone at some point, Mr. Ollivander!" She gave the man a gentle hug and asked, "How are you?"

"Fair to middlin' as they say," he responded, patting her on the back and then stepping away to walk to the counter. "I've taken on an apprentice."

"You have? I thought wand makers were born, not made?" Hermione asked as she too approached the well-polished, gleaming counter, the only thing not covered with the dust of ages on it. A faded magenta coloured pillow sat in the middle, flattened with years of use.

"True, true, but once we find the ones that are born, they must be trained," Ollivander trilled as he made his way behind the counter, where shelf upon shelf of wand boxes were stacked. "Now…let's see then. Your last wand was vine and dragon heartstring, was it not?"

Hermione nodded sadly. "Yes, it was."

"And since then, you've been using Bellatrix Lestrange's; walnut and dragon heartstring, 12.5 inches unyielding?"

"I have," she answered. "The Ministry sent me a letter stating they wish to remand it to their custody, so I have to get a new one. I don't know why I haven't done so voluntarily. I'm frankly surprised I've been able to use it at all."

Ollivander looked over the rim of his specs. "Can you do all the usual spells?"

"Oh, yes, come to think of it," Hermione mused. "All the standard ones; dressing, grooming, household and the like. I've not realised how easy it is to use; bit scary how easy at times to be truthful. I think it is time for a new one anyway."

"I am usually never surprised by the wand that chooses the wizard or witch, although Harry Potter's was a surprise…well not a surprise as much as well, interesting. Yours and Bellatrix's shared the same core, so it's not surprising that you could use it."

"But I thought, since her magic was so dark, it wouldn't work for me. I mean, my magic is much lighter than hers. I know siblings and parents can share a wand; Ron's was second hand from a family member, and Neville Longbottom used his father's, I believe."

"He did until his fifth year, and Mr. Weasley until his second year when he broke it," mused Ollivander. "Now, let's get to picking your new wand, eh?"

It took two hours and hundreds of wands until Hermione had her new wand. It was another vine wood one, only this time, it had a Phoenix and dragon heartstring core. It was slightly bendy but felt warm and homely in her hand.

Ollivander explained that her heart was indeed light and heroic for the wand to have such cores. "Although considering who your parents were—at least your mother—it does surprise me."

"What do you mean? My parents are Muggles, and I'm a Muggleborn; I am adopted."

"Aye, you are? Imagine that. Hmmmm," he said, and then abruptly escorted Hermione to the door. "Well, you have your wand now, and you'll do wonderful things with it. Thank you for coming, my dear!"

Hermione stumbled over the sill of the door as Ollivander gave her a bit of shove and closed the door quickly behind her, pulling the shade down to indicate his shop was now closed.

"Perhaps his war experience has made him a bit barmy," Hermione thought.

Their conversation came back to her as she prepared for bed that night. She had learnt as a child that unless her hair was braided, it would be impossible to brush out in the morning. She was sitting in front of the mirror of her vanity, brushing it in readiness for her plait, when she noticed, as she had been for several months now, how much darker her hair seemed to be.

She pulled the small lamp on the vanity closer and spread her fingers through her hair. Where once a honey blond/brown colour would shimmer with a few red highlights here and there as the light shone upon it, now there seemed to be darker colours, even very black hairs. Perhaps her birth mother was Scottish? Or maybe it was hormones—always a wacky thing for her. And hadn't her mother said that her own hair had darkened with age?

She turned away from the hair among her fingers to look at her face. She had noticed her skin was paler than it used to be. Over the warmer months, she had noted that when she sunbathed, she ended up burning much more than becoming tanned. Her body was probably changing and only now that there was no war to fight, she had a chance to notice. Her face looked a bit different as well. Her nose seemed to be a bit longer and now sported a bump. The bump could be the result of her torture, but she couldn't be sure. She idid/i notice that her bosom had gained two cup sizes and had had to purchase new bras in the past few weeks. Perhaps it was time for a check-up?

Shaking her head, she quickly braided her hair and then climbed into bed. It was usually her practice to read a bit each night, but tonight she was tired and gave it a miss. Her conversation with Ollivander returned to the front of her mind, and she contemplated the quirky old wizard's mysterious non sequiturs.

Hermione knew she had been adopted at only one month of age. She had been abandoned by her birth mother, and Helen and David Granger were at the top of the list for adoption after two long years of waiting.

She had a marvellous childhood filled with love, books, trips, and happiness. It wasn't until she was seven or eight that her magic, which looking back on it now had been manifesting for years prior, finally had to be addressed. Her parents removed her from school after one final burst of accidental magic set a classroom on fire, and her mother home schooled her until she got her Hogwarts letter.

It was ever such a surprise to get a letter and a visit on her eleventh birthday from Professor McGonagall. Her visit was a relief to her parents and Hermione herself. She was normal! She would be going to a special school where there were other children just like her. She would ifinally/i have friends.

But friends did not come easily to her. She had been too young to understand that her instinct to learn and prove herself to the magical world was overwhelming to the other students to whom magic was just part of life. She was called names and shunned for her exuberance in answering questions in class. It wasn't until the Halloween feast during first year that friendship came to her in the form of two rule breakers named Harry and Ron.

They became her very best friends, and she stuck by them through it all…the pranks, the undone homework, Quidditch, freezing cold conditions of the Horcrux hunt, first kisses, first love, heartache, abandonment, and friendship again.

It had bothered her that she could use Bellatrix's wand with apparent ease. She had practiced dark spells with her old wand and had had trouble getting it to obey her command. However, she had needed to be prepared for war, and it was only the fact that some of the darker spells might be needed on the horcrux hunt that pressed her on to learn them. It was easier to do them with Bella's wand now she thought back on it.

She turned over and huffed, punching her pillow. How is that Mr. Ollivander seemed to know things others didn't? Was it some sort of wizarding Alzheimer's, and he was simply just a dotty old man, suffering now from war stress?

Or maybe, just maybe he meant something among the waffle. Perhaps her birth parents iwere/i a witch and wizard or just one of them was magical? Maybe dark ones? The few dark spells she had had to perform in the war had come disturbingly easy, especially near the end when she was using Bellatrix's wand.

She also recalled that when she had to drink the Polyjuice to imitate Bellatrix, it was not as painful a transformation as it had been in second year. What she had never told the boys was that she secretly thought the dark hair looked good and wondered what her own face would look like with dark curls framing it. And Bellatrix had no freckles, the bane of her own existence.

Yawning, she tried to put the thoughts to the back of her mind so that sleep would come, but after a half an hour, she was still thinking and wondering. She flipped the duvet back and got out of bed. Padding over to her desk, she sat down and pulled out her quill and a piece of parchment. Lists had always calmed her mind when she was overcome by the thoughts within it, and so she began to write a few ideas down. Perhaps it was time to find her birth parents? If she did, she would speak to her parents first; she would do nothing without their support.

Twenty minutes later, several sheaves of parchment filled with notes, she was finally tired. Returning to her bed, she snuggled down and whispered 'Nox' to put out the lights. Sleep arrived shortly afterward.

"Hermione! Come on! We're going to be late for our reservation!" Helen Granger shouted up the stairs.

"I'm coming!" Hermione shouted back, followed by a succession of sneezes.

"Good heavens, love, what on earth?" Helen asked, as she made her way up the stairs.

"It's so dusty up here, Mum," said Hermione, sniffing wetly as the result of her sneezing. "Why didn't I bring a tissue with me?"

"As your friend Ronald is always reminding you, are you not a witch?" Helen laughed as she reached the top step and moved a little way into the dimly lit room.

Hermione laughed and with a small flourish of her hand, conjured a tissue and blew her nose. "That's better," she sighed, vanishing the bunched-up soggy tissue.

Helen looked around the room. "I don't suppose you'd work your, erm, magic on the room and clean it? What are you doing up here, anyway?"

"I'm digging through one of my school trunks. I'm looking for some of the Wizarding newspapers I saved to find some information that might lead me to my birth parents."

"But wouldn't that be in the papers from decades ago? I doubt there'd be anything in them from after you were born."

"There were always personal ads in the papers. You know: Will the lady who left the green cloak at The Three Broomsticks last Saturday night please Floo for its return; that sort of thing. Because of the wars, there were always missing persons ads; perhaps someone was looking for a child they gave up." Hermione looked at her mother. "Are you sure you don't mind me looking?"

Helen sat down on a dusty pile of old luggage. "Your father and I always knew there'd come a time when you'd want to know. That's why we were so open with you about your adoption. It doesn't mean we'll start loving you any less."

Hermione knelt in front of the woman who had loved her from the moment she was set into her arms. "I love you and dad, very much. I don't deserve your forgiveness for what I did, but I am grateful for it. I just hope that you don't think I will abandon you if I find them."

Helen ran a hand through Hermione's irrepressible curls, tucking one behind her ear. "You had the curliest hair, even at just a month old. It was just a tuft on the top, and I could never get it to lay flat." She cupped her hand around Hermione's chin and kissed her forehead. "Your father and I are not insecure about it, love. We have chosen to look at it as your gaining new friends into your life. Just like we did with Molly Weasley. That woman will make herself mother to anyone and anything, even your dad and I!"

Hermione Flooed into Number 12 Grimmauld Place to find the kitchen filled with laughter and music on the Wizard's Wireless.

"Hermione!" several voices chorused as chairs scraped and bodies moved toward her. She was swept into repeated hugs by all her friends; Luna, Harry and Ginny, Ron and Lavender, Neville, and George.

"Happy Birthday, Hermione!" they chanted.

"Let's party! The party girl is here!" hollered George, letting off a few of his Whizbangs, creating even more noise.

"Have a drink, Hermione!" offered Ron, enthusiastically handing her an overflowing glass of Butterbeer.

"Thank you," a bewildered Hermione said, shaking the excess liquid from her hand. "Thank you all! I wasn't expecting this."

"That's the whole point of a surprise party," said Neville. "C'mon! Your pressies are in the sitting room. Luna has been eager for you to open them."

Harry finally manoeuvred himself from among the crowed to stand in front of his long-time friend. Throwing his arms around her, carefully avoiding her hand holding the drink, he hugged her and whispered, "Happy Birthday, love."

Hermione laughed and said, "Thank you, Harry."

"Come on; everyone has been waiting for you to arrive. They've brought presents, drinks and nibbles. Kreacher didn't do a thing, I promise."

"Let's not keep them waiting then." Arm in arm, the pair climbed the stairs to the sitting room, where the crowd of friends again cheered the birthday girl as she entered the room.

Laughter filled the air as Hermione opened her presents. There were books from Luna, a Chudley Cannons Quidditch scarf, in shockingly brilliant orange from Ron, a packet of cosmetic products from an exclusive line of Witch Wonder products from Lavender, a beautiful new potted flower from Neville, and a lovely bracelet from Harry and Ginny. She opened a few silly presents such as a necklace of thistle from Luna (to help clear your mind of wrackspurts—it's a new treatment for war veterans)—and a pack of various WWW products from George, of course.

Once the gifts were opened and 'thank you' hugs were given, the nibbles and drinks were passed around and a raucous evening of games and fun began. It was well past midnight when Hermione pled exhaustion and stumbled up two flights of stairs to her usual room. Dropping into bed without changing, but thankful for having worn her hair in a braid, she fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, Hermione woke, a slight headache nagging above her temples. Knowing Harry kept various potions in the kitchens, she shucked her wrinkled clothes and slipped into her dressing gown, tying it firmly around her waist. She dug her slippers out from under the bed and quietly made her way to the kitchen.

She opened the door to find Kreacher at the cooker, poking at a frying pan full of sizzling sausages and another of fluffy scrambled eggs. He turned at the sound of the door.

"Good morning, Missy," he said. "You is needing to eat?"

"Good morning, Kreacher. I actually need a hangover potion. Does Harry still have some?"

"Master is keeping them in that cupboard," he answered pointing his long and bony finger to a spot to the left of the dresser.

"Thank you." Hermione opened the cabinet and shuffled the bottles around until she found what she needed. She also pulled out a few more to set on the kitchen table in readiness for the others.

"You is needing tea?" asked Kreacher.

"That would be lovely," sighed Hermione, placing the now empty phial of hangover potion on the table. She sat down as Kreacher padded over with a steaming cup and set it in front of her.

Hermione nodded in thankfulness and took a sip. She watched Kreacher as he went back to the cooker and then as he moved around the kitchen, preparing breakfast. He was as ornery as ever, but he at least stopped calling her 'Muggle filth' after Harry threatened him with clothes. A scrape of the kitchen door drew her attention away from the elf and to the new occupant.

"Good morning," said Luna.

"Good morning, Luna," said Hermione with a smile. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes. I made sure I had the down of a newborn ginger fairy under my bed to help me sleep. It also gets rid of hangovers," she said, pointing to the potions.

"Does it?" asked Hermione who took a quick sip of her tea before she laughed.

"No actually," Luna said sadly and reached for a potion while Hermione giggled.

Kreacher served both girls plates of breakfast and more tea and as they chatted, continued to work around them, dusting, washing up, and keeping more food warm for the others.

It was as Hermione and Luna put the finishing touches on yet another cup of tea, that more of the house stumbled through the door. Ron followed by Harry and Ginny and lastly George and Neville.

"Where's Lavender?" asked Luna.

"Having a li…li…lie in," yawned Ron.

"Master is wanting his breakfast?"

"Yes, please Kreacher, and plenty of coffee and…oh, hangover potions!" Harry cried, reaching for one. "Bless Hermione's curly head and all her pre-planning."

Hermione threw her napkin at him in mock outrage.

"What's on the docket for today, Harry?" she asked.

"Not much. A lot of loafing around, maybe a film; Luna's never been, and we thought we'd take her."

"Oh, good. We can just relax and take our time, yeah?" replied Hermione.

"Yes." Harry sat down and was soon tucking into a plate of food, along with the others. Talk was otherwise sporadic until Harry asked, "What are your plans, Hermione? Have you decided whether or not you'll take up Kingsley's offer?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm still at the Ministry temporarily. I love liaising for Kings and the Prime Minister, but I'm not sure I want to do it long term."

"Is working with the PM hard?" asked Ginny.

"Not particularly," Hermione answered. "But I need something else…something less etiquette and more challenge, you know?"

Neville laughed, "Oh, we know. Trust us we know."

The group of friends all laughed good naturedly with Hermione. Talk turned to how the others were doing at their various post-Hogwarts pursuits. Neville had left Auror training to apprentice with Madam Sprout, Ginny had decided to leave the Holyhead Harpies after next seasons' matches, and George was thinking of branching out into a mail order catalogue line.

"Things for witches and, erm," he blushed slightly, "adult products."

At that, Hermione choked on her toast. "You mean…toys and whatnot?"

"Yeah," replied George. "I've been doing research on the Muggle side of that sort of thing, and it's big money!"

The girls in the group began to wonder about what sort of items George might carry, and the boys looked around at anything that wasn't the women talking about sex. After a few minutes, Hermione broke away from the giggling to get another cup of tea. After she poured a cup, she turned and leant against the counter, watching her friends with a thoughtful expression. Ron stood and approached her.

"You okay, 'Mione?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"You look like you want to tell us all something," he said.

"I do, actually, but I'm not sure how because I'm not sure you all will understand. Harry would," she said, gesturing her teacup toward the bespectacled young man.

"Harry would what?" asked Harry. Ron and Hermione hadn't realised the group had quietened down.

"Understand," said Hermione as she returned to the table and sat down. "I don't know how the wizarding world handles this."

"Handles what?" asked Ginny.

"What a child or adult who has been adopted has to do to find his or her birth parents."

It was quiet for a moment before George answered, "I don't know that I ever heard of a wizard wanting to find his birth parents. Most adoptions are arranged by families, usually one trying to get rid of a squib or hide the apparent disgrace of a daughter having had a child out of wedlock."

"That was true for many years in the Muggle world, at least the child out of wedlock," remarked Hermione. "At one time, many girls would go on tour of the continent, visiting some dying aunt, or be sent to a Mother's Home; it depended on the wealth of the family. Some women resorted to back alley abortions; who knows how many died as a result. In either case, now that the stigma around adoption, at least for Muggles, has been overturned, it's getting easier for adoptees to find their birth parents."

"Why do you want to find your birth parents?" asked Harry. "You have a wonderful relationship with your parents, and you've had a great childhood."

"Yes, I did," agreed Hermione. "But I've noticed some changes lately. My hair for example. It has become darker and my skin doesn't tan like it used to."

"But that could be any number of things," said Ginny. "Maybe you need to see a healer to make sure nothing is wrong."

"I may, Ginny, but in any case, it got me to wondering who my birth parents are. That and Ollivander."

"Ollivander?" asked Neville.

"I got a letter from the Ministry last week. They are remanding Bellatrix's wand to their custody, so I had to buy one."

"You hadn't done so before now?" asked Ron.

Hermione sighed. "That was a question I was hoping you one of you wouldn't ask."

"Why?" George asked.

Hermione ran her thumb along the rim of her teacup. "Bella's wand was easy to use. Easier and easier as time went by. I know that wands used by family members will work, if not perfectly for them. I was surprised that Bella's wand worked for me at all."

"So you think Bellatrix is your birth mother?" Luna asked.

Hermione stared at Luna for a moment, marvelling at the eerie way the blonde always seemed to know things and blurt them out. "I don't know," she responded slowly. "Ollivander said some things about dark and light witches and wizards and my new core and, oh I don't know. It got me to wondering, is all."

Luna said, "Even if your mother isn't Bellatrix Lestrange, perhaps you were born of a witch or wizard who had magic. Perhaps they were distantly related to the Blacks, which would explain why her wand worked for you. Then again, you could have had a witch or wizard somewhere in your birth mother's or father's family so long ago, and it only manifested through you along the family line."

"Or," Harry began, "your genetic make-up is simply causing the changes you are noticing. Perhaps you are of Scottish decent?"

"I wondered as well," mused Hermione. "But I could be from any genetic group where dark hair is common. Our ancestors didn't just magically pop into the British Isles, now did they?"

Several in the group groaned at Hermione's unintentional pun.

"So my question is, where would I start?"

"What do you know?" asked Luna.

"I only know that I was found at the steps of a Muggle orphanage. An honest to goodness case of abandonment."

"Idmufftrusmagicalmarriffageunddeafs," said Ron.

"Ronald," said an exasperated Hermione, "How many times have I told you: chew, swallow, then speak!"

With a visible swallow, Ron repeated, "I'd would start with Magical Marriages, Births, and Deaths at the Ministry."

"I'm Muggleborn, Ron!"

Ron deflated. "That's right. Hmmm."

"So there'd be no record of your magical birth?" clarified Neville.

"No. No Muggleborn, even though they showed up in the book of magical births at Hogwarts and attended Hogwarts, would be on record unless they registered themselves with their documents. I already asked Kingsley."

George put his cup down and said, "Well, I hate to break up this serious conversation, but if we're going to the cinema today, we'd better find a paper and look at what's showing."

Everyone began to chatter, and chairs scraped as each stood to leave the room and get ready for the outing. An hour later, most of the group had left, but Harry and Hermione had decided to stay behind, pleading the need for a bit of rest.

"Ah, quiet," said Harry and arm in arm with Hermione, they went to the sitting room and flopped down onto the sofa. After a moment, Hermione stood and grabbed a book from the shelf.

Each sat silently for a while, Harry closing his eyes and Hermione reading. "What do you want to do today?" asked Harry, interrupting the peace.

Hermione closed her book and tossed it aside. "Hadn't really thought about it." She shrugged. "I just wasn't in the mood for a film with the others."

"Neither was I," said Harry as he began to bite his fingernails. "Ginny and George have been to the cinema before, so they can handle showing the others how it goes."

"You want me to help you with something. I can tell by the way you're fidgeting."

"I am not," Harry said too quickly, putting his hands under his legs to stop the fidgeting he wasn't apparently doing.

"Harry…." Hermione hedged.

"I want to ask Ginny to move in with me."

"I've been expecting that."

"But I also want her to make this her own house."

"Okay, that shouldn't be a problem. I would think you could easily allow her to redecorate."

"Yeah, but there's rooms even I haven't been in yet and since the Blacks lived here, who knows what dark magic we might find."

Hermione smiled, knowing what Harry was asking her. "So you want good old Hermione to help you out so she'll be on hand to fix whatever you accidentally set loose in the place?"

Harry turned red.

"Of course I'll help you, you idiot. You only had to ask!"

Harry smiled. "Thank you."

"Where and when do you want to start?"

"At the attics, I think. That way we can put away the things we find later back in there after is clean."

"Have you ever been in the attics?"

"Actually yes. To look for dark books after the war. There's just one large box room where all that's really in there are some trunks and unused furniture. There are bedrooms on one end that the elves used to use and a small bathroom. The water works there, but I don't think any of the fixtures have been used in decades."

Hermione stood. "Let's get started then."

The door to the main attic room was stiff, but Harry gave it a shove, and the pair stepped into the dimly lit and dusty room.

Looking around, Hermione saw three filthy windows. She shot a spell at them and soon they were clean, letting more light into the area. She gaped as she saw trunk stacked upon trunk, old chairs piled up and lying haphazardly, head and footboards for beds, an old Cheval mirror with its protective cloth hanging at odds upon it, revealing the glass had darkened with age. There were long buntings of cobwebs swinging from the rafters. Some of the trunks were open, and clothing hung out of them, spilling onto the floor. Along one wall, bookshelves had been fitted and there was row upon row of books with gaps showing where books had been removed. Hermione felt her hands begin to twitch with desire.

"Harry, I thought you said there were 'some' trunks in here."

"Some can be a relative term, right?" Harry said cheekily, receiving a smack upside the head for his punishment. "Ow!" he laughed. "Where should we start?"

Hermione tapped her finger on her lip as she thought. "Normally I'd head right for the books, but perhaps we should look through the trunks first. If the clothes in them are in good repair, we can send them to the War Widows and Orphanage Home."

"War what?" asked Harry.

"Oh, it's an organisation Kingsley started after the war at my recommendation. We used the British Red Cross as a model. The clothes will be kept for times of crises."

"Can't people just magic their own clothes?" asked Harry.

"All the times you endured Madam Malkins' pins during robe fittings didn't clue you into the fact wizards bought clothes?"

"Oh yeah!"

"Honestly," Hermione growled. "Let's start on our left and work our way round in a circle. That's how my mum always cleaned house."

With a nod, the pair began to work. Trunks were sorted, items folded ("They'll clean them at the Centre," remarked Hermione) and repacked. The outsides of the trunks were cleaned and labelled with their contents and then moved to the area of the floor Hermione had cleaned (as they sorted, each would clean the floor, walls, and rafters of the area they were working in).

After a break for some tea and lunch, the pair returned to their work. The others had only returned long enough to inform the pair of their plans and leave again. It was well into the afternoon that Harry made a discovery.

"Hermione?"

"Yeah," she asked, straightening from the trunk she was packing.

"I found one of Bellatrix's trunks."

"And?"

"Erm…she wrote a diary."

Hermione's curiosity was piqued. "Really? Can I see it?"

Harry turned and to hand her the diary. The look on his face stopped Hermione's reach for the book.

"What is it?"

"I began to leaf through it. There aren't many entries, but well…read this one." He pointed to a particular page.

Hermione began to read the atrocious handwriting and grabbed Harry's shoulder for support. It couldn't be. It was just a coincidence, surely. She had been pregnant and gave birth to the child on the same day Hermione was born. Lots of babies were born the same day, so what?

Hermione turned the page and could only sink to the floor as she read. Bellatrix had glamoured the baby using a spell Voldemort had taught her. The baby was abandoned at an orphanage. The same orphanage her parents had been registered with and indeed had adopted a baby from.

"Harry…" she spluttered.

"It could just be a coincidence, 'Mione."

"I know, but…"

"We'll go to Kingsley," Harry said, "He'll know what to do. He'll know people who can test your DNA or something."

"Yes. Right. Of course," Hermione murmured distractedly.

"What do you want to do?"

"I want to go to my room and lie down for a while, okay?"

"Sure thing. Let me help you. Do you want the diary?"

"Yes."

Once she had closed the door behind Harry, she went to her bed, lay down, and burst into tears. She only now admitted her fantasies of finding an intelligent witch who had been in love only to realise life as a single mother in the wizarding world would be cruel to her and a child, and so made the most loving sacrifice of abandoning her child, were but dust now. There would be no tearful reunion, no new friend made. And certainly, there would be no joyful revelation to the birth father.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

Hermione stood outside the door of an old fashioned two-up/two down, brick house, one in a long row of similarly styled homes. This particular one was at the very end, closest to a rather dank and murky looking waterway; an old canal from the days when goods were sent to London and points south via water.

She was nervous. In a week's time, her life had turned entirely upside down. She knew she would face this moment when she began the search for her birth parents two months ago, but never in her wildest imagination had she thought its conclusion would come so quickly, and she'd be facing the man she knew lived behind the door.

Harry and Hermione had gone to Kingsley, and as they expected, he knew how to proceed. They had gone to the Department for Magical Births, Marriages, and Deaths where a maternity spell was performed. A paternity spell could have been performed, but in order to protect the father, Hermione opted to wait to perform that test.

When it was confirmed Bellatrix Lestrange was indeed Hermione's birth mother, she fainted. When she came round again, she was on a sofa in Kingsley's office, the comforting hand of Harry within hers, and Kingsley ready with a tea trolley nearby.

Hermione shook her head a moment to return to the present and swallowing the urge to simply run and put her knowledge away forever to never think about again, she lifted her shaking hand and knocked timidly on the wooden door. When a reasonable amount of time had passed and there was no answer, she knocked again, this time more firmly. A third attempt was interrupted when the door was ripped open, and the man himself barked, "What the hell do you want!"

When their eyes met, he sneered and said, "Oh, it's you; what do you want?"

"May I come in? It's rather chilly out."

Severus stepped back and waved her in. "I hope you're not here to persuade me to return to Hogwarts. It'd be just like Minerva to send her favourite cub to do her dirty work."

Hermione looked around the sitting room, upon which his door had opened, and said, quietly, "No, actually. I'm here for something else. May I sit?" she asked, gesturing to the threadbare, sagging blue sofa.

"Suit yourself," Severus answered as he sat in the well-worn, buttery soft looking leather wing back chair near the fireplace. "I assume you're here for a reason, then? Need help with your NEWTs? Want the secrets to all my potions?" he sneered.

Hermione cleared her throat and reached into her ever-present beaded handbag. Settling the rather worn leather book on her lap she began, "I'm here for a rather, erm, personal matter."

Severus stood up and said, "Take your personal life to Minerva. I want nothing to do with it."

Hermione gestured for him to sit again. "Please. What I must ask you, what I have to tell you, is rather personal but it does involve you."

Severus did sit again, crossing his legs. "I hardly see how."

Hermione started to tell her story but couldn't figure where to begin. One simply didn't blurt out 'you're my dad' after all, especially to someone known to verbally eviscerate any dunderhead for the simplest of mistakes such as not crossing the letter 't' in the word 'potion'. "Would you mind if I made us some tea?" she did manage. "We may need it."

"You're being very mysterious, Miss Granger. Should I be suspicious?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest."

"Go ahead in make the tea then," Severus said imperiously. "You'll be able to find everything easily enough; it's a small kitchen.

Hermione agreed it was a small kitchen. It was chock full ofmetal cabinets all in a row along one wall, decorated with cobwebs and years of dust and grease along the tops. There was a cooker at the end by a tiny, filthy window. On the opposite end, at right angles, was another bank of lower cabinets without doors and broken up by a sink with two taps. If she bothered to look, she'd probably find a boiler under the sink that heated the hot water tap. A grimy window was installed above the sink, cleaving the bank of upper cabinets into halves.

Turning again at right angles, a tiny table fitted against the wall that divided the sitting room and kitchen. Two rickety looking chairs were drawn alongside, and a pair of yellow salt and pepper shakers sat precisely in the middle. Nothing was done to make the kitchen homey…no cloth on the table, no pictures on the little wall space there was and no curtains at the window. This was a strictly functional room used by a man who had no time for anything lovely at all.

Severus was right in that she'd find everything easily enough as tea, cups and saucers, and a tin of biscuits were on display with the open doored cabinets. Alongside sat an old brown teapot, slightly crazed with years of use. She picked up a battered aluminium coloured kettle, filled it with tap water (she was certain the pipes would burst given the noise it made when she turned the tap), and set it on the cooker. She found matches on the shelf running across the top, and switching on the gas, lit the pilot.

As she waited for the water to boil, she considered the man in the other room. Her father, if the diary were correct. She had loathed him in school, admired him after the war and then relegated him to the back of her mind. Someone to think about when memories of the war overwhelmed her or chatting with her friends at the pubs, well into their cups.

Not wanting to drag this out, she shot a spell at the kettle and it suddenly boiled. She poured it into the prepared pot, picked up the tray and carried it into the sitting room.

"Here we go," she said, pouring a cup for Severus and handing it to him. She poured one for herself and sat down again. A few moments of nervous sipping passed.

Setting his cup onto his saucer with a gentle scrap of porcelain against porcelain, Severus spoke, "Pray, Miss Granger, now that the niceties are out of the way, please explain the reason for your visit. I am breathless with desire to know."

Hermione highly doubted he was breathless but cleared her throat and began. "I have always known I was adopted, Mr. Snape."

Severus sneered. "What has that to do with me?"

Hermione snapped, the tension causing her to be brusquer that she might have been, given he had been in a position of authority over her at one time. "If you'd just listen without interrupting, I can get to the point!"

Severus smirked, which irked Hermione to no end.

"As I was saying, I have always known I was adopted. Two years ago, my parents returned to England. They were very angry with me, but we've had a long talk about all my years at Hogwarts and all that has happened. They were—as expected—very angry, very frustrated, and very confused about why I lied about my schooling and the need to send them away. It took months actually, but we managed to find some common ground again.

"We also discussed my magic and the fact that more than likely, my birth parents, or at least one of them anyway, was either a witch or wizard or had family who had magic somewhere in their background. With their blessing, surprisingly, I began to search for them."

As Hermione had gabbled, Severus looked at her. She had changed since leaving school…since the war. The last time he had seen her was…when? The night he...well, did what Dumbledore had wanted. No, he had seen her later…after the snake tried to rip his throat out. She had been thin, filthy, her hair matted from lack of washing, but still able to immediately grasp what was happening, and once Potter and the ginger idiot had left, she had quickly saved his life.

Now that he had a reason to be looking at her—and attempt to look like he was paying attention to her—he could see that she had seemed to recover. Her hair, cleaner than the last time, was springy and long, a bit darker than he remembered. In fact, it reminded him of Bella; she always had pretty hair, he thought, even if it was Lily's flame of red that attracted him. He also noticed that although Hermione had filled out from the last he remembered of her, and she seemed a bit paler. Her lips were wider, again reminding him of Bella's. And he had noted upon opening the door when she had been knocking, that she had grown taller. Bella had been taller than him in those days, but he had not yet finished growing, and in a few years, was the taller of the two.

"…and so Harry and I read the diary, and now I know."

"I'm sorry, what?" asked Severus.

"You've not heard a single thing I've said," Hermione huffed.

"Why should I? Do you think I want to hear all about your precious search for your parents? If they were a witch and a wizard, they are more than likely dead, else why would they have given you up? Children are a precious thing in this world, Miss Granger."

Hermione stood, anger radiating from her. Severus had a flash of Bella again, standing just like Hermione was now; hands on hips, chest thrust forward (Bella had had magnificent tits), and lips curled.

"Because, you complete berk, if you had been listening, you would know that Bellatrix Lestrange was my mother!"

Severus' jaw dropped.

"Close your mouth, Mr. Snape, you look like a guppy," Hermione drawled, arms folded across her chest, very reminiscent of her former professor.

Severus did close his mouth. "How can you be sure? I never knew she was pregnant. In the whole time she was married to Rodolphus, they never had children."

Hermione turned to pick up the book that had fallen from her lap when she had stood. "This is Bellatrix's diary. As I had said, Harry and I found it when cleaning Grimmauld. I read through it and she describes her pregnancy, hiding it, and giving away her daughter. Her daughter with pale skin and a sprout of curly black hair on the top of her head. She also wrote down who the father was. Here," she handed him the diary, "I've marked the pages you should read. I'll just go and make a fresh pot of tea while you do."

It was cowardly, she knew, but she didn't want to see the look on his face when he read who her father was.

_March 1979_

_Dear Diary,_

_What a stupid thing to call you. Diary. Why not Midge or Heloise? Bugger it._

_I've been so stupid and as a result, my Lord is punishing me. Sending me away to some horrid Muggle town until it's over._

_He was teaching my Legilimency and it's quite hard, but I shall learn because my Lord demands it, and I love him so much. He was very angry, but he did not punish me, although he did punish Cissy for her role in it. I suppose I should be sorry about that, but since I have to leave my love, I am not._

_I am pregnant. I can't believe it. I only just found out last week and have told only Cissy, but while practicing, my Lord found the memory of my finding out I'm pregnant and also the memory of Cissy and I together, discussing what had happened on the trip. I retch at the mere thought now. She was shocked and said if anyone found out who I shagged, it would ruin the family. The memory shows us discussing the obliviate and then ends, because she had performed it. We thought it was complete, but my Lord found it during my training session. Cissy never was good at the more complicated mind spells. _

_It was horrid seeing it through my Lord's eyes._

_Snape and I had been sent to Albania to scout out possible safe houses for our Lord. It should have been an easy enough trip; find the locations, make notes on the local area and pop back home._

_I guess I had complained I was hungry one too many times because Snape had suggested we eat in a Muggle pub. The food was good and the drinks were cheap. I admit we may have had a bit more to drink than we should have; Muggle vodka is rather tasty. We were having a good time, tucked up in a booth and making comments on the Muggles who came and went in the pub. Merlin, they dress weirdly!_

_The pub owner asked us to leave a couple times, but we ignored him. We had plenty of Muggle money, he should have been happy we were spending it! Anyway, the idiot Snape started ranting on about his father and what a bully he was, when he tried to pick a fight with someone who apparently looked like Papa Snape. _

_The Muggle police were called, and Snape bollocked it all up by punching one of the policemen. We ran pretty sharpish, and they took off after us. We didn't Apparate nor could we (had I been in my right head I would have done so anyway) and wound up hiding in an old factory. It was very cold, and we had to wait a long time. He attempted to talk to me, to apologise, but I wanted nothing to do with the git. I began to shiver and he, trying to be a gentleman, came closer and wrapped his cloak around us both. Well one thing led to another and he always did smell good, and he was new to the Death Eaters…_

_Stop press! Snape was a virgin! I took the Half-blood Prince's virginity! I can't wait to use that over him later; I hated the little berk in the first place._

_So now I must go and complete my pregnancy in a strange area and leave my baby at an orphanage. My Lord insists; he will not have two of his numbers tied to each other in such a way, especially when he has other plans for us._

_I am very angry that he will not punish Snape. In fact, he said he won't even tell him for he has great plans for the idiot._

_I will not forget this. Ever. I will use it to bring the nasty little boy down, you wait and see. _

Severus snapped the book shut. For a moment he was quiet and unsure what to think, and then he lurched out of his seat and rushed to his loo. He vomited into the toilet in horror as he remembered he compared Miss Granger's tits to Bellatrix. Miss Granger was his daughter! He vomited some more.

A soft knock on the door and a quiet voice asking if he was all right managed to bring him around.

"I'll be out in a moment," he said gruffly.

He could hear her walk away as he stood, groaning. He looked at his face in the mirror, red from the strain of vomiting, but haunted looking all the same. He bent to splash some water on his face and cupped his hands to fill them as the tap flowed and drank several handfuls, swishing and spitting. He reached blindly for the towel and wiped his face, looking again into the mirror.

Miss Granger was his daughter. He snorted; a spell should prove the validity of the claim.

He turned and leant against the sink, his face buried in the towel. He remembered the mission with Bellatrix. It was the very first time the Dark Lord had chosen him to complete such a job, and as a young nineteen-year-old eager to find acceptance as a Death Eater, he complied with the Dark Lord's wishes. He had not been happy with his travelling companion, who had taken the time to find fault with absolutely everything he had done as they travelled.

He remembered that night in Albania—most young men do remember their first lover—although Bella seemed completely unaffected afterward. His mates noticed his new swagger when he returned and when he confided to Mulciber about what happened, he was devastated to discover Bella usually found a way to welcome all the new blokes that way.

It was the start of his loathing of the woman, which had gone both ways. When she had disappeared a couple months after the mission, he thought nothing of it. He had often wondered if she remembered it…she never mentioned it, even when she had taunted him about his loyalty years later. He surmised now that the Dark Lord must have obliviated her upon her return to his fold or made her take a vow.

Not wanting to keep Granger in his house longer than necessary and not really wanting to face her at all, he squared his shoulders and went to the sitting room. She was sitting quietly, the book lying in her lap, her fingers fiddling at the binding.

"Are you all right?" She asked as she lay the book aside and poured fresh tea.

With a gusty sigh, he sat in his chair and accepted the cup she held out for him. "You look a bit like her. I don't recall ever noticing while you were at school."

"You wouldn't have done," Hermione said quietly. "She doesn't write much more about her pregnancy in the diary, but there is an entry after she gives birth. She says that Voldemort had given her instructions for a spell to use on the baby after its birth. It was for a long-term glamour with a time expiry on it. She could choose when to have it drop, if at all, and cast that into the incantation. She had been instructed to observe the Muggle 'animals'," her breath caught a moment before clearing her throat and continuing, "Observe the Muggles and picture in her mind a non-descript typical one and cast the glamour upon the baby. She was then to leave it on the doorsteps of an orphanage. The baby would look just like any other Britain and no one would be the wiser."

"There are other Muggles in this world with hair like yours?" was the first thing out of Snape's mouth.

Hermione glared at him. "You know, if this situation wasn't so absurd, I'd leave this instant."

Snape looked over the rim of his mug. "I wouldn't stop you."

Hermione was angry now. "You'd throw me out? You've just learnt I am your daughter and you care that little?"

"What did you honestly expect me to do, Miss Granger? Fold you into my arms, kiss your curly little head and rush to a toy shop with you to start making up for the years you were denied your true father?"

"No, I don't!" Hermione shouted, "But as an adult who has received unexpected news, I'd expect you to react appropriately."

"And how do you think I should appropriately react, Miss Granger? Start crying and clutching at my chest in shock? Beg you to forgive me for not being there? I know you had two parents; I've met them."

Hermione sagged back into the cushions of the couch. "I'm not sure how I want you to react."

"That's both of us then." He looked at her earnestly. "Your skin is as pale as mine, and at least you didn't get the Snape nose."

Hermione chuckled. "I had noticed when I start having to use a stronger sunscreen potion, and no, I did not get the Snape nose."

Severus sniffed before taking a sip of tea and then said, smugly, "At least you got my intelligence."

Hermione truly laughed then. "I suppose I did, but my parents did encourage a love of reading and learning."

"Then I thank them for that."

"Now that you know," Hermione began, "do you have any recollections of me as a student where you thought that I might look like Bellatrix? Even if it were a passing thought that I reminded you of someone?"

"Honestly?" he asked.

Hermione nodded.

"No. Other than your damnable hair, no."

"Oh," Hermione said disappointedly.

Severus chuckled. "Come now, Miss Granger, surely you aren't expecting me to say, 'I should have known'?"

The witch looked up at him. "I suppose, the romantic me might have in a little way, yes, but the pragmatic me says obviously not."

The silence was very pregnant as the two sat, politely sipping tea. Severus was the one to break it by standing suddenly and pacing the room.

"Mr. Snape?" Hermione asked, anxiously.

Severus stopped. "I am confused, Miss Granger. I believe I will need some time to digest this. Once I do, I will want a paternity test."

"I understand. I've already had one to prove Bellatrix's claim; I did not allow the DoBMD to perform the paternity one unless you gave me permission."

"Thank you for that. May I keep the diary for a while?" He pointed to the book that lay near Hermione's hip.

"Oh, yes, of course."

They looked at each other nervously.

"Erm, I should go." said Hermione, standing as she spoke.

"Yes, I think so, too."

"Please floo me if you'd like to talk. I'm staying with my parents, and the Floo is connected. Even if it's just to tell me that although you know, you'd like me not to contact you. I find that honesty is less painful than never knowing at all."

"You have my word."

"Thank you, Mr. Snape.

"I believe you could call me Severus. If I contact you, that is. It would help me to feel that you are an adult now."

"You may call me Hermione then."

He waited until he heard the faint pop of Hermione's Apparition before he bellowed with rage and despair and began to blow up his house. When he had finished, sweat pouring down his face, he dropped to the floor and wept.

Weeping and Severus Snape are not things one would expect to see, but within the soul of the man who had been so cruel to others, so verbally vicious, a bully to no end, there _was_ a man. A man who had loved and man who had once had dreams that had been shattered like the finest champagne glass at the highest note a trained opera soprano could reach.

He _had_ loved and deeply.

He _had_ wanted a child.

He had wanted all the things most young men dreamt about and even wanted them as he grew into adulthood. Only circumstances and two men changed that.

And now, he had a chance.

He sat up and swiped at his face. He Accio'd Miss Granger's book—or rather Bella's—from where it had dropped to the floor when he began his rampage. He noted that Miss Granger had marked the pertinent pages with little Muggle sticky papers. He chuckled a bit because if she knew he was obsessed with Muggle stationery and supplies, she would laugh. But then again, the charmed planners he knew she had given the boys one Christmas and her penchant for colour coded study guides, probably meant she did as well; at least he passed one of his better habits to her.

He read the entries through several times. Only when it was too dark to see well—a storm had blown in—did he rise and look around his home. Picking his wand up from the floor, he began to slowly reconstruct his sitting room. When all was in order, he shuffled over to his chair and lit a fire, falling asleep not long afterward.

The toll from the church bells two roads over woke him, and he shivered in the coolness of the house; the fire had gone out several hours before as he slept. He relit it and went to the kitchen for some tea. Realising he'd left the pot in the sitting room—after he had repaired it—he went back and retrieved the tray upon which sat the pot and two mugs. He lifted the one Miss Granger…Hermione…had drunk from, her pink lipstick staining the rim.

A daughter. He had a _daughter_! The words thundered through his brain as he took the tray to the kitchen and set about making tea. As he thought about the girl he remembered and the woman she had grown into, he was right in telling her he never noticed her resemblance to Bellatrix. To him, she was just another student in a long line of students he had been teaching for nearly eleven years before her arrival. She was an unknown to him and except for her know-it-all qualities, probably would have remained 'just another student' had it not been for Potter.

Knowing now that she had been very strongly glamoured, he wouldn't have ever noticed any likeness to him or Bella. Bellatrix never said, even for all the taunting and hatred she had spewed at him. It had gotten around they had slept together, and she spread it around that he had been rubbish and a virgin. It took years to live it down and that may have had its role—and there were so many—in shaping the persona of evil he had begun to wear as a young lad.

Pouring the tea into the waiting pot, he only let it steep briefly before pouring a cup. He needed to wet his dry throat and would take another cup after it had brewed long enough. He wandered to his desk and sat down, brushing aside some of the dust that had fallen onto it from his destruction earlier. He opened his drawer and smiled when he reached in for his Muggle fountain pen; there it lay among a few stray paperclips, rubbers, sticky notes, and thumbtacks. He then pulled another drawer open and from underneath a ream of lined paper with three holes along the side, he pulled a sheet of traditional parchment. Miss Granger would expect him to write on such things.

He opened his pen and began to write the date and greeting:

_15 November 2001_

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_You are probably most surprised to receive my letter so soon after the revelation of our new status as father and daughter._

_You stated that if I wished to talk, I was to Floo you, but Owl is my preferred method of communication as it gives me time to contemplate the hidden meanings in a person's correspondence. This should not surprise you._

_I do wish to speak with you further. You may return to my home or we can meet in a more neutral location, if you wish._

_Please owl me with your preference as well as a date and time._

_Severus Snape_

He had almost written 'your father', but until they established what sort of relationship they would have, he would be Severus to her. As well, knowing that she did not know him as her father, he would not usurp her adopted father's position in her life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three**

Hermione sat at a small table in the coffee shop she had chosen to meet Severus. She had been rather surprised to get his owl the day after the revelation, and knowing how mercurial his moods could be, acted upon his invitation immediately. She had suggested meeting just two days from the date of his note and gave him the address to a Muggle coffee shop. It was part of a chain near a college, but it would be crowded enough for them not to be noticed, nor their conversation overheard.

It was five minutes past the time he should have arrived, and she had begun to bounce her leg nervously. She took a deep, calming breath to relax herself. If he travelled 'Muggle' she thought, then could be any number of reasons for his delay. If he had decided not to meet her, surely he would have been kind enough to send a note?

She had begun to tear her paper napkin into strips when she saw him come through the door. She saw him scowl, look around, and his eyes blink in acknowledgement when he saw her. She balled up the stripes and took a sip of her beverage.

"You've chosen a rather busy place," he said quietly.

"I thought you would appreciate that it is busy enough for us not to be particularly noticed; we could be a professor and a student for all they care," she said, her hand gesturing toward the crowd. "It's also noisy enough not to be overheard."

"Ah," he mused. "Even so, I shall cast a Muffliato."

Hermione nodded her permission and then asked, "Would you like a coffee or tea? Iced bun? I can get you one while I refill mine."

"Thank you. Coffee, splash of milk."

Hermione hurried off, thankful that he was finally here, yet very nervous as to what he may say. The line for coffee was not long and within just a few moments she was carefully wending her way around the tables, carrying their coffees.

"Here you go," declared Hermione as she set the cups down. She sat down and opened the lid to her drink, blew across the top, and took a sip, wincing as she did so. "I don't know why I do that; it never cools the coffee off." She furthered winced at her nervous babbling.

Severus said with a smirk and a drawl, "You are a witch, are you not? You could cast a cooling charm; I assume you can do wandless magic?"

Hermione felt herself blush. "Ron iand/i my mum are forever reminding me," she answered with a small giggle.

"How have your parents reacted to the news?"

"They were shocked, truthfully."

"I thought you said you had their blessing?" asked Severus, taking a drink of his coffee.

"They had, but I am sure they expected me to find out it was a case of a lovelorn young couple who accidentally got sprogged up and, given the culture of the Wizarding world, put the baby up for adoption. Instead, they got landed with an insane yet powerful witch and the man who was my teacher, and whom I didn't necessarily like at first."

Severus snorted in response. "And now?"

"We've talked a lot in the last day or so. They knew who you were, of course, and respect you, believe it or not."

Severus' eyebrows shot up. "I hardly think so."

"They do!" Hermione insisted. "They can see how you had to behave in the years you taught. Well, perhaps not in the years when Vol—" she broke off at Severus' hiss. "What?"

"Please don't say his name! It's not because you should be afraid of it," he quickly interjected when Hermione began to rebut, "it's because it causes pain in my scar if you do."

"I'm so sorry. I'll be more careful, I promise."

"Thank you. You may continue."

"I explained that you had to maintain some level of your persona even through those years he was not 'alive'"—she made air quotes—"so that when he did return, you were able to maintain your character as a spy. If you had become less bitter and angry in those quiet years and then slipped back into, erm, dungeon bat mode, it would have been suspicious."

Severus nodded. "You are correct."

"Bellatrix took a bit more explaining," she added softly, touching her arm.

"What happened to your arm?" Severus asked with some concern.

"You don't know?"

"Should I?" he asked, peeved at her assumption.

"I was tortured by Bellatrix at Malfoy Manor. She used a cursed knife and carved an epithet in my arm." She cast her eyes toward her arm.

"And the word?" growled Severus.

"Mudblood," she whispered.

Sympathetic silenced followed.

"Does it hurt?"

"Occasionally. I've got a Muggle topical anaesthetic that helps a bit during the bad times."

"I have a salve that will help; I'll owl it to you."

"Thank you."

They sipped their drinks and looked around for a while, struggling to find something to say. Finally, Severus said, "I trust that the diary has not been altered by you, but I hope you understand that I will ask you to accompany me to the Ministry, but not the DoMBD; I have a contact who will quietly perform the paternity charm."

"Why all the secrecy?"

"Hermione, even you are not that much of a dunderhead. Can you imagine all the publicity, all the outcry that would accompany such knowledge? Have you even told your friends yet?"

Hermione's eyes widened. She hadn't thought about what would happen once the identity of her birth parents became known. As it was, the Wizarding world at large did not know she was adopted. "My friends know I am looking, but at this point only Harry knows the truth. I hadn't thought about what would happen after I discovered you, to be truthful. Perhaps like my parents, I dreamt of some lovelorn couple."

"I am willing to accept that you are most likely my daughter, but I would also like for that knowledge to remain only between us, your parents, and Potter at least for now. If it were up to me, I'd make him take a vow."

Hermione was indignant on Harry's behalf. "He won't say anything if I ask!"

"It would not be the first time Potter blurted out private information about me when under pressure," Severus responded, and it took the wind out of Hermione's sails.

"I see your point," she said apologetically.

Another few silent minutes went by before Hermione asked, "Was there ever anything between you and Bellatrix? Her diary was pretty plain that she did not like you and that you were 'just another bloke'. She also seemed to be delighted at what she learnt that night." Hermione blushed, not daring to look at him as she spoke of his lack of experience.

"No, there was not. Although I may have swaggered a bit afterward, my newfound status and ego were shot to hell when Mulciber informed me of certain penchant of hers."

"Ouch," said Hermione.

"Indeed."

"You never suspected anything when she left suddenly?"

Severus shrugged. "Not particularly. I was not in the Inner Circle yet, so her comings and goings at the time were none of my concern. She married not long after her return, though."

"Was she insane then?"

"No. She had a few mental issues given the inbreeding of the Black line, but she really didn't become what one might call insane until after Azkaban."

Hermione looked startled. "Do you think I will inherit…?"

Severus interrupted her. "No, I do not. The Prince line was stable, and if you've not shown any propensity yet, I don't think you will. That's not to say you may not suffer from any mental disorder; depression is common as is anxiety. But insanity? No, I don't think so."

"May I get you another coffee?" asked Hermione, eager to change the subject.

"I shall get them," answered Severus. "I suspect you need a moment."

With a smile, Hermione said thank you.

It took him longer than it did her to return with fresh cups, but when he had and was seated again, she asked, "Are you working now?"

"I have a rather profitable mail order potions business."

"Oh?"

"With my somewhat reluctantly given pardon, Order of Merlin award, and war pension, I live rather modestly. I can take or decline orders as I wish, so I am doing well, as they say. And you?"

"I'm currently working as liaison between Kingsley and the British PM."

"Currently?"

"I'm not happy to be honest. I need something more challenging."

"Minerva has not offered you an apprenticeship?"

"Teaching is not something I want to do. I may have at one time, but Hogwarts seems to grab onto its teachers and never lets them go, you being the exception."

"Hogwarts is a home for those who would be abandoned in most cases. Myself, Flitwick, Trelawny, for example. It takes in the strays, so to speak."

"Minerva is a stray?" Hermione asked curiously.

Severus nodded. "She has had her own share of heartache. When she left school, she worked for the Ministry, but left after two years. She wrote to Dumbledore and received an offer to teach Transfiguration. Did you know she had been married?"

"You're kidding!" blurted Hermione.

"Yes; she married Elphinstone Urquart, quite late in life, but sadly he died after only having been married three years."

"That's so sad!"

"Hmmm," Severus agreed. "Before then, she had been in love with a Muggle, but she couldn't bring herself to expose him to the magical world and the requirements of the Statute of Secrecy at the time. You are young; teaching could be in your future, but I agree now is not the time. Did you sit your NEWTs?"

"I did. I actually went and finished my seventh year, much to Ron's disgust. I did very well."

"I would expect no less. Why was Mr Weasley disgusted?"

Hermione blushed that she was actually speaking to _this_ man about her private life. "Ron felt that one battle driven kiss meant 'get thee to the altar'. I put him off so that I could attend Hogwarts, but our fledgling relationship did not last. We are friends, though."

"You would not have lasted," Severus said matter-of-factly.

"You can't know that!" spluttered Hermione.

Severus quickly swallowed the coffee he sipped as she rebutted his claim. "Mr Weasley is impulsive and jealous. He wants the life he grew up in…loving family, mother always at the beck and call of his whims. He wants a wife who will do the same. He also wants the fame, recognition, and money that Potter got without trying.

"You are methodical, a planner. You never leap into the abyss, horcrux hunt aside, without having done your homework. You have planned a future of academia, research, perhaps championing the oppressed. I don't see Ronald at your side for that."

"You are very perceptive, but that's what made you a brilliant spy," Hermione conceded. "You are right, though. I am most intrigued by research…finding how to tweak a potion to make it last longer, stronger, that sort of thing. Perhaps even creating new potions."

"Have you applied for an apprenticeship or university?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. Kingsley wanted me to be his liaison so badly, I couldn't say no. At first it was glamourous, meeting so many important and well-known figures from around the world, but the glamour has worn off and it is now a chore."

"If you wanted a recommendation, I would provide one." Severus looked at his watch. "I'm about to be cliché, but I must go; I've a potion that needs decanting."

"I'm sorry to have kept you so long!" said Hermione.

"Don't be. It was not…objectionable."

"When do you want me to be tested?"

"I will owl you after I contact my friend. Regardless of the answer, which is most probably correct, I would like to meet with you again. I know you, but I don't know you, and I think I would like to."

Hermione smiled. "I would too." She gathered a bit of courage and said, hoping he wouldn't misconstrue her meaning, "Severus, even if you are my birth father, I have a father, the man who raised me. I don't think I could ever call you 'Dad'."

"Severus will be fine for now. I would not ask you to replace the man you love with me. That would be selfish. For now, I will accept the offering of friendship and see what happens."

"That is acceptable," agreed Hermione.

Severus gestured to the door and together they walked out. Once on the sidewalk, they wished each other good day, Severus reminding her he would contact her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four**

The paternity test, completed in a private room at the Ministry, did indeed prove that Severus Snape was the biological father of Hermione Granger.

Hermione was pleased with the outcome and at first, so was Severus. However, as the weeks went by, he over thought his new dynamic and became sullen and angry. He felt that he had been cheated out of watching her grow, at least until she was eleven, and then had he known she was his daughter, may have treated her differently. No matter what Hermione said, what books she offered on the psychology of adoption revelations, he would not be consoled.

Hermione's parents copied photographs of Hermione's childhood and gifted them to him in a gesture of friendship. He was grateful, but asked Hermione not to contact him for a while. It was not because he did not want to acknowledge his newfound status, it was because he needed to come to terms with it. Hermione respected Severus enough to allow him the time he needed.

While Severus was dealing with fatherhood, Hermione decided that finding her birth father and befriending him meant it was time for a new chapter in her own life. She quit her job at the Ministry—no amount of Kingsley's pleading would convince her to stay—and applied for a potion's apprenticeship. She interrupted Severus' solitude only long enough to ask for the promised letter of recommendation.

The three-year apprenticeship was with a master in the Ukraine. It was hard work, but Hermione was very happy and felt that her choice was the right one.

While she was in the Ukraine, she kept in touch with her friends. Harry and Ginny had married—she returned to Britain for the event—Luna had gone to South America, met and married Rolf Scamander, and Neville had begun to date Hannah Abbott, who had begun to work at the Leaky Cauldron. Ron, although he had tried to win Hermione back several times over the years, finally settled down with Lavender Brown and were set to have another child, making the total to date three.

During the time she was away, Hermione and Severus corresponded regularly. He had begun answering her persistent letters about six months into her apprenticeship, and the pair kept their owls very busy. They would floo each other every couple of weeks and during the summer of her second year, Severus and her parents came to visit. It was also during this time that Severus began to call Hermione 'Curly' because no amount of Sleekeazy's or hair product could tame her curls; it was just one small thing they two shared to help bond them more. Very occasionally, Hermione called Severus 'Pops', only in jest, but lovingly, nonetheless.

Hermione was grateful to her mum and dad for offering the hand of friendship to Severus. He had been hesitant at first, her mother had said, but he began to visit them at least twice monthly and learnt a great deal about Hermione's childhood pre-Hogwarts much to her embarrassment.

When Hermione returned to England, her boyfriend, Artem, came with her. Both had applied for positions at Malfoy Manufacturers, a multi-professional research and development firm. They were quickly snapped up to work in the research departments of their chosen professions, she potions and he transfiguration. They had a strong relationship, each supportive of the other; they were both bookish and driven. Artem was a good-looking lad, a bit taller than Hermione with dark brown hair and brown eyes. He had a great sense of humour and teased Hermione in a loving way that was not meant to hurt her.

Severus and David took Artem to a pub one evening, and he returned home looking a bit shell-shocked. When Hermione asked what the matter was, he simply shook his head and said nothing. Eager to leap to his defence, Hermione floo'd her fathers and read them the riot act when they had admitted they had given Artem the 'if you hurt our little girl' speech.

Severus owled her to meet him for tea one afternoon after her return to England, and it was a very curious Hermione who sat, waiting for him to arrive at the same coffee shop where they'd begun their friendship years ago. When he finally entered, she smiled, and the smile was returned.

Arriving at his table, he leant down to kiss her on the cheek—something he had only begun doing in the last year; Hermione would hug him regardless, much to his dismay—and asked how she was doing.

"I'm well, thanks. You?" She took the lid off her cup and blew, blushing when Severus chuckled and murmured, 'Witch or not?'

"I am well. I have had an offer that could change how I run my mail order business. It is an offer that may be of benefit to you as well, perhaps even Artem."

Hermione bounced in her seat. "Oh?" she asked excitedly.

"The current owner of Slug and Jiggers wishes to retire. Mr. Bashram came to me and wondered if I would like the buy the business; he offered a very fair price."

"Oh, Severus," Hermione breathed in wonder. "That _is_ exciting. Are you going to?"

"I admit that my mail order business is outgrowing my kitchen. This shop would be larger, is already equipped and would offer an onsite retail opportunity."

"Where do I fit in to this?" Hermione asked.

"If I bought the business, I'd need help. I can hire a few shop assistants easily enough, but I would need a hand in brewing and researching."

"And you want me to help you?"

"Yes, I would."

"What about my job at Malfoy's?"

"If you're happy there and feel the opportunity to research is what you expect, then stay. I will say that being an independent researcher would allow you to stretch your limits in ways that Malfoy would not because they have to deal with the Ministry and all their regulations and red tape. Of course, we'd have regulations and red tape, but only after we create or improve a potion."

"And how would this benefit Artem?"

"I assume you two have discussed marriage at some point?"

"In a round about way, yes." Hermione hedged.

"The shop has a flat above it. It could be a nice little home for two people," Severus hinted, looking bored.

"But what about you? Won't you want to live in the flat?"

"I have made improvements in my home, and the area is growing. I could sell and find a small flat or stay if I wish. Flooing would be no problem."

"Oh, Pops, it does sound perfect, doesn't it?"

"I've a bit more research to do myself in regard to ownership of the business and its past profitability, liability and the like. I also do not have to keep the name as the previous owner did. I must admit, Prince and Daughter has a ring to it."

Hermione clutched Severus' arm in her excited response. "You would do that? Allow the wizarding world to know you have a daughter?"

"Yes…yes I think I am. It's been three years since we found out. I am comfortable enough to answer any questions or not as the case may be. I think, however, before we change the name and register the business in both of our names, you should tell your friends; they will be angry in the first place, but angrier if they found out via the Prophet."

"I agree. It won't be easy though."

"No, it won't. But your parents and I will be there to support you."

Hermione sudden flapped her hands. "Wait! Did you say you'd register the business in both of our names?"

"Of course. You are my daughter; you will inherit that and everything else I own upon my death."

Hermione burst into tears and leapt up to hug Severus.

"Get down, woman and stop blubbering," he said testily, but with no malice.

"I can't believe you'd do this!" Hermione exclaimed, wiping her eyes on a napkin.

"You are my daughter; I would make sure you are provided for."

Hermione excused herself to go to the ladies to clean her face and to gather her wits. How can this man who so hated her while in school, who was such a bastard to everyone, who apparently wanted little to do with the rest of humanity…how could he have changed in such a short time? Granted, it took years of getting to know each other to see the person he could be. What a privilege for her. She smiled and left the bathroom.

"Sorry about that," she said as she sat. "I know you are not one for 'scenes'."

"It's all right. Do you need time to come to a decision?"

"Are you crazy? I'd love to work with you!"

"Don't you think you should discuss it with Artem first? It's quite a sudden change."

"Perhaps you're right."

"You know I am," said Severus smugly.

Hermione smiled and threw her napkin at him. "Git!" she said good naturedly.

They left the coffee shop not long afterwards, having decided that Hermione would discuss the offer with Artem, and also to think about whether or not she really did want to leave the Malfoy Manufacturers. Two weeks after their meeting, Hermione owled Severus and asked if she could meet him at his home. She had come to a decision.

* * *

The Prince's Daughter (there had been quite a tussle over the final name of the shop) was a success within one year of Severus' purchase. He handled most of the mail order operation while Hermione took care of the brewing for the shop. Together, they had made and patented improvements to several standard remedies such as burn salves, cold potions, and most importantly, memory potions. The Wizarding world was not immune to the ravages of the aging mind and although they could not cure Neville's parents, they could ease the effects of dementia and senility for others in their world.

Hermione also created new cures for poisons and a ground breaking potion to enhance the fertility of witches and wizards, one that would mitigate, but not cure, the chances of a squib birth.

Three years after the shop opened, Severus and Hermione closed the shop for one month, the reason being that Hermione was getting married! Severus and her parents took great delight in helping Hermione and Artem plan the a month was not needed for the final preparations of the wedding, Severus had decided to take a vacation at the same time…and not alone.

He had begun to date a friend of Helen Granger's two years prior and things were looking serious. She had been told all about magic and had taken an oath regarding the statue of secrecy. He and Ardith would have a two-week vacation, touring Greece and Turkey, commencing a few days after Hermione's wedding.

Hermione and Artem had sat her parents and Severus down to dinner one night to discuss a rather delicate issue; who would give the bride away.

"I love you all, very much and want each of you to share in my special day. However, and please don't be angry, Severus, I want my father to walk me down the aisle. I hope you understand."

Severus nodded. "I do understand, Curly. He raised you, made the memories with you that make him your father. I have only been a small part of your life. I am very comfortable with your father walking you down the aisle."

"You'll of course sit up front with us," said Helen.

"Yes," agreed Hermione, "but I have another question I'd like to ask you. Mum, Dad, Artem, and I discussed it, and would you escort Mum down the aisle when it comes time?"

"I would be honoured," replied Severus.

In time, Hermione and Artem would make her parents and Severus grandparents twice over. Two rambunctious dark-haired boys, one with a curly mop and one whose hair was straight and lank, brightened the lives of their loving parents and grandparents.

Severus and Ardith did not marry, but lived together in a new home in London, not far from Hermione's parents.

Hermione looked back on her life and wondered what might have been had Bellatrix been allowed to keep her child. Would she have been drawn into Dark Magic or insanity? Would she have learned to love and admire her birth father earlier in life that she had?

Artem often admonished her for her what ifs. "Your life played out as it should. Too many people long for what if and die always wanting. You have parents who love you and your birth father loves you. I love you. The children adore you. Does it truly make a difference how you go to this point in your life?"

Hermione Jean Granger-Snape Ivas had to agree with her husband. Life right now was as it should be. She was content and that was enough.

* * *

**Here is the prompt in its entirety: Hermione is the secret love-child of Severus Snape and Bellatrix LeStrange. That's why Hermione could use Bellatrix's wand without being cursed by it. Bellatrix concealed the pregnancy, cast a glamour on the child, and dumped her at a Muggle orphanage. Hermione always knew she was adopted, but after Bellatrix's death, the glamour is wearing off Hermione, and she starts looking more like Bellatrix and/or Severus. Who figures it out first? How does everyone react? (SS & HG)**

**This was really different from anything I've every written, and my usual beta, my sister, refused to read it! I hope you enjoyed it.**


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